Ping
by TheRowanFoxx
Summary: Ping always felt more comfortable as a girl, so he started to crossdress as a woman with the new name of Mulan. However, war is looming over China. So, maybe Ping will have to return. [Genderfluid(ish) male Mulan AU, following a similar plot to the movie. Still Mulan and Shang pair. Gay Disney, so be warned. Will remain rated T, though that may even be too high]
1. Chapter 1

The small room was dim, lit only by the few candles around the room. Wax pooled at their base from long hours of burning. In the center of the room, was a single bed, sheets crinkled from the woman that lay there.

Fa Li was a beautiful woman. Kind beyond measure and gentle, she was the epitome of a true lady. She was curvy, with delicate hands. Her hair was an inky black that fell over her shoulders, framing her round face. Her dark eyes and red lips were features sought by many young women.

Even indisposed as she was, her beauty could not be disputed by any. In fact, though sweat dripped down her pale skin and bags were under her tired eyes, as she cradled the small bundle in her arms, she exuded a glow that showed beauty beyond any of her years.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Fa Zhou brushed the tip of his fingers against the baby's cheek, his other hand intertwined with his wife's.

"He's more than I could have ever hoped for…" Both husband and wife gaze lovingly at their child. Li's voice was soft as she cut through the silence. "What shall we name him?"

The baby's large, black eyes gazed at them curiously. He giggled at their attention.

Zhou turned to his wife, smiling at their child's joy.

"I think we should name him… Ping."

 **Age 4**

"Mama! Papa! Look at me!" Ping proudly displayed the silk dress that he wore. His mother's dress was far too big, the fabric covering his hands and surrounding his feet, burying his small body. His face was covered in white paint, his lips and eyes messily done in red and blue makeup. Both Li and Zhou gasped in shock.

Li was the first to come to her senses. She carefully approached her child, her eyebrows furrowed in worry. Ping's wide grin remained.

"Darling… what is this?" Ping turns to display the dress, tripping on the hem a few times.

"Am I pretty, Mama? I look just like those ladies that go to that big, mean man every year!"

"That's a woman, dear," Li pats Ping's head, smiling despite herself. "Why are you dressed like this?"

Ping cocks his head and scrunches his eyebrows together. The confusion clears and he grins once more, taping his mother's shoulder as if to console. "You're silly, Mama. It's cause it makes me pretty!"

"Sweetie, you don't need to wear this to be… um… handsome."

"But I don't want to be handsome! I want to be pretty!" Ping crosses his arms in a pout, long sleeves flying wildly. Both mother and father sigh.

"Go clean your face and change your clothes. We will talk later," Zhou cuts in, a rare occurrence with Li usually holding the reins with their child. Ping's pout only intensifies as he stomps out of the room, trying not to trip. Zhou turns to Li.

"What… what do we do?" Zhou looks to his wife, beyond worried about what this could mean for the future of their child. Li smiles sweetly and grabs ahold of her husband's arm.

"It is probably just a phase. He will grow out of it in time." Zhou looked at the still-open door, his wife's words easing him far less than they usually do.

"If you say so…" His voice was too weak to be convincing.

 **Age 7**

"So, I was thinking..." Ping shyly looked up at his parents where he had beckoned them to sit moments ago for this super important secret meeting. Zhou and Li sat patiently, if not slightly apprehensively. Ping tugged at the hem of his shirt, frowning at the stiff feel of the fabric. He gnawed at his bottom lip, finally meeting his parent's eyes.

"I... I want to be a girl." Zhou and Li glance at one another. Li speaks first.

"What do you mean, sweetheart?" Ping thinks in silence before huffing in frustration.

"I just... I _hate_ being a boy! The clothes aren't comfortable, and the other boys at school only talk about boring things. When, I play with the girls, they aren't so mean and they are way more fun to talk to! I like girl clothes. Wearing make-up makes me feel good. When I'm a boy, people treat me different..." Ping wrings his hands together and looks at the ground.

Zhou and Li didn't know how to feel about their son's confession. They didn't understand.

But they wanted to.

"Ping, we love you. No matter if you are our son, or our daughter. We just want to see you happy," Zhou smiles when Ping's head zips up in surprise. It only take a moment for that huge grin to replace his frown. Ping jumps into his parent's laps, grasping them tight in a hug that is returned immediately.

"I need clothes. And make-up. And I want to be a lady, like Mom. And-"

"Slow down! We will make sure to do all of that, just give us a second," Ping looks at his parent's smiling faces, still gripping tight to their shoulders and sitting in their lap, though he is far too old for that. Zhou's small smile fades as he stares seriously into his son's eyes. "Others will not be so kind when learning of your decision. We can not stay here. We will need to start anew elsewhere."

"Oh... I'm sorry. I know you like it here Dad, we don't have to leave the land behind..."

"We can bring the ancestors to our new home and it will be as if we never left. Ping, for your happiness, there is no price too large." Ping falls back into his parent's embrace, not dropping his smile even as his cheeks started to ache.

"I don't want to be called Ping anymore. Could you..." Ping hides his face in his mother's shoulder. "Could you give me a new name?"

Li smiles at her husband and rubs her hand on her child's back soothingly.

"When I was pregnant with you, we decided, if you were to be born a girl, your name would be Mulan."

"Mulan... It's perfect."

 **Age 16**

"Mother, Father! A boy asked if I could be courted!" Mulan ran up to the main entrance, kicking off his slippers impatiently on the lawn. His deeper voice contrasted with the lovely pink gown he wore. His make-up was tastefully done, the subtle pink blush only enhancing his high cheek bones. He made a beautiful woman, though both his face and voice had an air of androgyny that made many double-take before dismissing the idea of the refined lady being a male in truth.

Zhou peeks past the door frame too quick to be dignified.

"The answer is no!"

"What?! But..."

"I'm not giving my little girl to anyone!"

"Father! He's nice. I think he would probably understand... my situation." Zhou meets Mulan in the hall, holding his cane in a death grip as he gently cradled Mulan's arm.

"Boys are wolves. He is not what he seems. There is absolutely _no_ way I will marry you."

"But-"

"No buts! Our situation is... delicate. It is normal for us, but to others, they could only see it as strange... You are too young to make to make such an important decision. When you are older, you are sure to understand." Mulan sighed.

"Okay. I understand, it's just hard sometimes." Zhou wraps his daughter in his arms, letting his cane drop to the floor.

"I know, Mulan. I know..."

 **Age 18**

"You seem excited."

"Of course I'm excited!" Mulan picked up the brush, applying the red paint to her lips. She checks the mirror when she's done. "I've been wanting to go to the matchmaker for years now!" Li smiles fondly as she watches her daughter eagerly get ready for the afternoon, many hours from now.

"I know darling."

"I mean, I'm probably going to be older than everyone else there, and I can't _really_ get married, since I have a-"

"Language."

"Uh, yes. I am biologically male. But even so! I've been taking those classes for etiquette and it would be nice to be recognized as a lady. Others my age always seemed to have mixed feeling about me..."

"That is likely due to your lady-like mannerisms one moment, and your tom-boy act the next."

"But that's me! Being a lady is nice, but so is playing chess, wearing pants, and having an actual conversation."

"I know, sweety. But having the best of both worlds is unrealistic, and often impossible." Mulan scoffed.

"I know. It's just stupid. I wish I could just... I dunno. I'm going to try to live how I like."

"That's admirable, but often dangerous. Know where the line is, Mulan."

"I know, Mother." Li puts a jade hair comb in Mulan's hair, the brilliant white flower causing her hair to appear darker and her skin paler.

"Your father and I will be there for you, no matter what." Mulan smiles delicately, a mask of a lady, a far cry from her wide grin of the past, but no less sincere. Li claps her hands together decisively. "Right! Let us finish preparing you. This afternoon is sure to be an interesting one."


	2. Chapter 2

Mulan looked at her reflection. She knew that 'Mulan' was a woman, but sometimes it was rather easy to forget that Mulan is Ping, too. Dressed in a passionate red and a blushing pink silk dress, how could she not admire herself? It may be narcissistic, but never before had she seen herself so beautiful.

"Mulan, here. A pendant for luck, an apple for serenity, and beads of jade for beauty." Mulan's Grandmother lovingly placed the items upon her granddaughter, smiling gently. She attached a caged cricket to Mulan's waist. "A lucky cricket, though you hardly need it, darling."

It was strange, that this day was finally coming to pass. Mulan had waited for so long to prove herself, to show that she could bring honor despite…

Mulan masked her emotions into a carefully set smile. She gracefully stepped out of the building, on her way to the Matchmaker. Her family sent her off with a final wish for luck. Even as she upheld her mask and ignored it, she felt beyond grateful for this opportunity that was granted to her.

She followed behind another girl on her way to the matchmaker, other girls queuing behind Mulan. Approaching the matchmaker building, they gracefully bowed behind their umbrella, hiding from the matchmaker's view.

Mulan, in turn unable to see the matchmaker, was clued in to her arrival at the slamming open of the entrance doors and the hush that fell over the crowd that had gather to watch.

"Fa Mulan!" The woman's voice was harsh and unpleasant. Mulan rose silently and bowed to the matchmaker. The woman turned on her heel and headed back inside, focused on the clipboard she was marking up. Mulan followed.

Once inside, the matchmaker efficiently began her job. She measured Mulan with her eyes, walking around her as to not miss a single detail. It took everything in Mulan to avoid fidgeting or to break the passive expression that she wore.

"Shoulders too broad…" She wrote on her clipboard dismissively. Mulan eye twitched.

The matchmaker had Mulan run through the final admonition, as well as preform a small tea ceremony. Mulan ran through the process with grace and diligence, having practiced for this moment for months beforehand.

Even with things going the right way, fate doesn't always follow the same path.

The cricket had escaped during the tea ceremony, and way quickly spotted by the matchmaker. Caught by surprise, the matchmaker jumped up, spilling the cup of tea poured for her in Mulan's lap. Even with the many layers of the dress, the silk easily gave away what cotton might not have.

The matchmaker stared at Mulan with wide eyes, which narrow but a second later. Mulan could see the new goal in her eyes as she analyzed the girl before her. As she took in the broad shoulders she passed off before, the jawline that was more angular that round, the flat chest, and the… the soaked lap, all Mulan could do it look to the ground in shame.

"You…" Mulan flinched at the sound of her voice, which held more venom in it than it had before. Mulan stood quickly in front of the other woman. She bowed her head as she listened to the words spit at her, like acid. The cricket shyly returned to its cage.

"You do not belong here. This... disgusting… I cannot have you in this building, mocking what I do and making a fool of yourself. This is beyond outrageous." Her meaty paw roughly grabs Mulan's wrist and drags her to the entrance. The crowd stills at the sudden exit, not one person's eyes drifting from the scene in front of them.

"You are a disgrace! You may look like a bride, but will _never_ bring your family honor!" The matchmaker's voice is loud in the silent, her words meant for Mulan, but heard by all. The matchmaker pushed Mulan away, causing her to stumble before she catches herself.

Mulan barely meets her mother's eyes, her crestfallen face, through the tears that welled up before she was running away from the building.

It was far from ladylike, but maybe that was closer to the mark anyways.

* * *

Mulan cradled Khan's face, using his snout to shield her face from her father's imploring eyes when she returned to her house. The onyx stallion follows her with his head down, seeming to sense her morose mood.

Mulan led Khan to the stable and unbound him from his bridle. Looking into the clear water in the trough, her face stared back at her. She released a heavy sigh past painted lips.

Turning away from her reflection, she left the stable, deftly avoiding the rest of her family. She released the lucky cricket in a nearby bush. She silently strolled along the river until she arrived at the ancestor shrine. Sitting down, she could see her face from every angle, and each one seemed to be mocking her.

She helplessly stared as tears welled up and her lips trembled. With a vicious cry, she roughly wiped her makeup with her sleeve.

The make-up was smeared, showing bare hints of her face under the mask that had embraced her.

"Who am I if I'm not Mulan?" Her voice was quiet, cutting the air like a knife.

No one answered.

Mulan buried her face in her knees, wrapping her arms around herself. The lovely wine red silk stained with white powder.

* * *

Mulan rests on the hard, stone bench. She fiddles with the jade comb in her lap, just to have something to do with her hands. It's not long before Zhou arrives, slowly lowering himself onto the bench. Mulan pointedly looks away.

"My, my. What beautiful blossoms we have this year." His voice is rough with age, but gentle. "But look. This one's late." He points at the sakura bud. Mulan turns to face him.

"But I'll bet, when it blooms," Zhou runs his fingers carefully through Mulan's hair, grasping the comb to pin her hair, the white blossom proudly displayed. "It will be the most beautiful of all."

Mulan smiled softly. The crushing ache in her chest didn't alleviate.

Mulan is special to her. She _is_ Mulan.

But, just for a moment, just a fleeting moment, she thought maybe it would be better if that changed.


	3. Chapter 3

The deep echo of the drum was easy to hear in the silence of the garden. Even from a distance, Mulan caught the sound as easily she had noticed the shift in her father's face.

The gentle smile fell from his lips, replaced by a hard look she had never seen before. Mulan's brow furrowed.

"What is it?" Her voice left her unsteadily. Mulan shifted forward, ready to follow her father's step. He walked briskly to the main entrance and Mulan stumbled to keep up.

Just as she reached her father's side, she followed his gaze to the men coming their way on horseback. Led by a thin man with a heavy glare were two younger men in full armor, each holding the flag. Mulan had never been so close to a soldier.

Li and her mother came out of the house at the commotion, joining them at the entrance. Li's face seems to crumble at the sight of the men. There wasn't much she could do, but Mulan rested her hand on her mother's shoulder, a show of comfort. It didn't help, but she smiled in thanks all the same.

The leader of the men pulled to stop. He pulled out a scroll and read loudly to the accumulating crowd.

"Citizens! I bring a proclamation from the Imperial City. The Huns have invaded China!" The townspeople gasped. Mulan's blood runs cold. She barely feels the tight grip her mother's hand on her wrist. "By order of the emperor, one man from every family must serve in the imperial army!"

The man barely gives pause before reading off the names.

"The Hsiao family!" A man walks up to the men, bows, and accepts the scroll offered by the soldier.

"The Yi family!" A younger man accepts in the place of his elder father.

"The Fa family!" Mulan feels the blood run from her face as her father hands his cane to Li and marches forward to the men, his back straight and his face proud despite the limp.

Mulan swallowed a lump in her throat. Her father can't fight in the war. He served many years when he was younger, he has a limp, and he is aged. He is not the soldier he used to be. Without thinking, Mulan took a step toward him.

Li's grip didn't loosen. Now looking pointedly at her daughter, Mulan couldn't proceed forward.

No need to make a scene.

Zhou takes the scroll without interruption.

"Report tomorrow to the Wu Zhong camp." Zhou bows his head.

"Yes, sir." Turning, Zhou limps back to his house. The crowd seems to part for him. He doesn't accept his cane back.

The man on the horse continues to call names, not lingering on one more than the other. Moving on despite desperate cries from wives and children, and the hands that slip from an embrace only to be replaced with parchment that could mean death. He calls the men up who are young, with eyes screaming naivety, and the men that are scarred and unable, with careful stone faces.

His face remains neutral. If he focuses too hard on the scroll without looking at the men marching to death, no one calls him out on it.

* * *

Zhou runs his finger over the ornate dragon handle. Its golden fangs are bared and its eyes set in a glare. He pulls the wardrobe open, breaking the dragon's glare for the first time in many years. The black armor loomed above Zhou. The shoulder pads had a sprinkling of dust.

He reached instead for the sword, pulling it from its sheath in a smooth movement.

Zhou sliced the sword through the air, his feet moving in a pattern long since memorized. He bends and stretches his body, each move attacking the enemy's vital points. He thrusts the sword forward for the finishing blow.

His back protests, shooting pain throughout his body. He groans and the sword slips from his grasp. The clatter of the metal on the floor follows just a moment after the thud of his own body.

Just outside the doorway, Mulan pushes her back against the wall, her breath almost as labored as the man in the room.

It was easy to make the decision from there.

* * *

Dinner is silent. Faces are grim. Mulan pours jasmine tea in everyone's glass.

The occasional part of lips to speak is rethought and replace with food instead.

It thunders outside.

Mulan sets her cup down harder than necessary. Everyone looks up at the sudden noise. Mulan rounds on her father, eyes narrow and jaw tight.

"You shouldn't have to go!"

"Mulan-" Li tries to interrupt, but Mulan continues to barrel forward.

"I am the youngest male in this household. I will fight in your place." Zhou grips his cup tighter.

"No, you will not. It is an honor for me to protect my country and my family. You are my daughter, and this won't suddenly change that."

"So, you'll die for honor." Mulan's voice steadily rose. She won't change her mind.

"I will die doing what's right." Zhou rises from his seat, but his voice is no louder than before.

"But if you-"

"I know my place! And I know yours. You do not belong on a battlefield." Zhou calmly sits back at the table as Mulan clenches her fists. Tears of frustration pool in her eyes. She stomps from the room, into the rain.

* * *

For so long she sits there, her head curled into her knees. She felt heavy from the water soaking into her clothes. Her skin feels cool to the touch.

At her feet, she sees her reflection. The barest hint of make-up she was wearing had long washed away. Her onyx hair flowed over her shoulders, shining wet with rain. The lovely dress she had worn draped from her shoulders unflatteringly.

She had never thought Mulan was ugly before.

Mulan kicked the puddle, muddling the reflection beyond recognition.

She set back her shoulders in determination and walked away.

* * *

Mulan's gait was swift. The water poured from her like she was a cloud herself. Puddles formed in each step.

The shrine was already lit with a small oil lamp. Mulan burned incense and bowed to her ancestors, not lingering.

She rushed inside. Her footfalls as silent as they could be with the slick slosh of water against the hard floors. In her parents' room, she took just a moment to gaze at their faces. She gave a small smile before grabbing the scroll and rushing from the room, leaving her jade comb in its place.

Mulan grabbed the sword, which rested against the wall, away from the other armor. She pulled it from its sheath as she had seen her father, though far less elegant.

She let her fingers slide through her hair one last time before slicing it at the shoulder. She didn't spare the fallen heap of hair a look as she quickly pulled what she had left into a neat bun.

She pulled on the armor with minimal difficulty and attached the sword at her hip. She left the house with a passing glance in a mirror at the unfamiliar person that stared back.

Ping mounted Khan and rode off into the storm, refusing to look back.


	4. Chapter 4

"Okay, okay, how about this?" Ping coughs gruffly, puffing his chest out like he had seen the men of the village do. He approaches Kahn with a false confidence. Kahn stares back in boredom.

"Excuse me." Ping deepened his voice stiffly. It sounded unnatural. "Where do I sign in?" He gestures with obnoxiously wide arms. "Aha! I see you have a sword. I have one too." He pats the handle of the sword. "They are very manly and-" he tries to pull the sword from its sheath, but it slips inelegantly from his grip onto the ground. "Tough..."

Kahn silently mocks his weak attempt. Ping huffs.

"I'm working on it!" The irritation drains from him with a heavy sigh. His body loosens. "Who am I fooling? I don't even know who Ping is. How am I supposed to be him?" He gazes out at the training grounds, hidden in the lush patch of forest.

Ping lets out a huff of air, frustrated at himself. Mulan was always confident. Mulan could always play the part.

If she could, why should there be any reason that Ping can't?

* * *

The training grounds are cluttered and busy. There are men pounding at steel, carrying lumber, and cleaning swords. Ping silently wondered if he could even lift the hammer the man pounded into steel. When had he last done something with his hands that wasn't delicate and gentle?

"Okay." Ping shook his arms loose. He couldn't embarrass his family. He has to be a man.

Ping remembered when he first became Mulan, how he had to watch how his mother moved. He remembered how he had to change everything to become the lady that the young boy was not. Now, all he had to do was forget the years of training that had already been ingrained in him. Easy.

Flashes of how the men walked appeared through Ping's mind. He thought of his father when he marched up to receive his scroll.

Ping held his head high. He pushed his shoulders back, showing off the broadness rather than hiding it. Ping walked with heavy steps, his arms swinging powerfully at his side.

If Ping had learned anything in his years, it was how to properly play a part.

* * *

The men paused their work as Ping marched forward. They stared with wide eyes at the man's strong, blank face. This man couldn't be anything but a soldier.

The men on the path parted to form a clear path at the sight of the confidence.

Ping held his mask, but released a small relieved sigh from parted lips. They believed him.

Ping felt powerful. It was a different kind of power that Mulan held. Men would look at Mulan like a conquest. They were gentle and kind, all in the hopes of Mulan gracing them with just a second of her time. But Ping was different. These men didn't look at him as an end result. They saw him as the present. They saw a man serving his country with pride. They saw him with respect.

It was a new feeling, but Ping could easily see the appeal. And, perhaps, for the first time in Ping's life, he felt comfortable as a man.

Upon entering a tent, Ping sees a man with a large gut digging a finger in his nose, and another scratching dirt from his foot with chopsticks in intense concentration.

Ping had also never felt quite so disgusted in his life. Yes, being a woman is much cleaner. Far preferable to this… this. He is quick to exit the tent, but trouble is just as quick to find him.

"Look! This tattoo will protect me from harm!" Ping stands next to the small group, watching as the overweight man proudly reveals a red dragon spanning his chest.

The short, stout man in front of him hums. Ping immediately notices his black eye and hostile features. The tall, lanky man beside him smiles. The short man punches the tattooed man, his breath leaving him as he crumples to the ground. The tall one points and laughs at the fallen man.

"I hope you can get your money back!" he jokes with a high-pitched voice.

Ping considers his most painful injury was probably just a byproduct of tripping. The false bravado slips from his posture as he stares with wide eyes.

Words escape his parted lips, barely a whisper.

"I don't think I can do this…"


	5. Chapter 5

Ping watches the three vastly different men. His eyes are drawn to the stout man as he hocks a loogy, his black eye somehow more pronounced as his eyes scrunched tight together when he draws air into his lungs.

This man was the epitome of tough- manly. He was very unlike Ping's father, rough rather than dignified. It was at this thought, that Ping had a revelation.

Mulan had separated herself from the village boys, as they were wild where Mulan was delicate. The only man Mulan had spent any real extended time with was her father. There were a few exceptions of course, those boys that came into her life with the intention of marriage. But those boys were on their best behavior. They weren't going to act as themselves around a lady.

Mulan only ever saw that proud, dignified type of man, so that is how Ping acted as. But young men didn't act like that. Ping had already messed up as he projected a man with far more experience than Ping actually had.

If Ping was to fit in, he had to act like this guy.

"What are you lookin' at?" he speaks up with a glare as he notices Ping's eyes on him.

If Ping was to fit in, he had to act tough and rude, apparently.

The man turns back to his friend and ignores Ping. Ping takes the opportunity to employ what he just learned. Tough and rude.

Ping punches the man's back in a way that was meant to be friendly, or perhaps playful, but the man falls into his larger friend's cushiony stomach with momentum far too much than Ping had meant.

The jovial, large man picks up the one Ping had punched, smiling serenely. "Oh Yao," he addresses the dazed man in his arms. "You've made a friend!" The large man places Yao back on his feet.

Good. That was good, right? It never hurts to make sure. Ping uses another technique he's seen men use. Ping slaps his behind.

Yao startles, turning to face Ping with a balled up fist. He pulls Ping down to his level as he grips the cloth around Ping's shoulders. The tentative smile Ping had slipped from his face.

"I'm gonna hit you so hard, it'll make your ancestors dizzy."

"Yao." The large man grabs Yao and chants soothingly to calm him down. The angered blush in Yao's face fades out as his body relaxes.

"Feel better?" The large man smiles wide.

"Yeah." Yao glances at Ping and waves dismissively at his before turning away to walk off. "You ain't worth my time. Chicken boy."

Ping's face scrunches at the odd insult, as he thought chickens were rather nice. Either way, Ping knows an out when he sees one. He turns to escape the area. Unfortunately, in his haste, he trips on the tent stake, falling forward and headbutting the tall, thin man that he first saw talking to Yao.

The willowy man falls forward, hitting a man beside him hard in the back.

"Ling!" The large man that calmed Yao down rushes to help his thin friend, but Ping accidentally trips him. A sort of domino effect proceeded as nearly every man at the camp was somehow hindered by the fight, resulting in the large pot in the center of the camp containing rice porridge to feed the prospective soldiers tipped over. All of the men glared at Ping, approaching him with disgruntled faces.

Ping backs up with placating hands and a very guiltily look on his face.

* * *

"Soldiers!" The authoritative voice of Li Shang stills everyone mid-fight. It is silent for mere moments before all the men gesture to Ping, curled up in the middle of the fight in a tight fetal position in an effort to protect himself.

"He started it!" they yell in anger. Shang approaches with steady steps and stands over Ping. Ping finally peeks out from his arms as the man's shadow hangs over his prone body.

Ping make eye contact with the other's sharp, dark eyes. He raises a thick eyebrow at Ping, his handsome face unamused.

Ping stands quickly, brushes pieces of rice from the spilled food off of his armor. Be it by habit from years as Mulan, or just embarrassment, Ping's head hangs low as he tries to not meet the man's eyes. A faint blush graces his cheeks. He's not sure if it's the man's good looks that have rendered him this way, or the fear he feels at this man's strong voice. He decides it's probably both.

The man pushes into Ping's space, forcing Ping to lean back and look up into his face as he tries to avoid touching. Their faces are too close for comfort. Ping's heart punches against his ribcage.

"I don't need anyone causing trouble in my camp." Shang stares down at Ping with furrowed brows and a heavy frown. Ping shies away, looking to the side.

"Sorry," he says softly, slipping into the voice of Mulan by instinct as the threatening- very attractive- man hovers over him. The man's face doesn't change, but Ping realizes his mistake.

"Uh…" Ping clears his throat as he starts to panic. His body relaxes as he imitates Yao's posture from earlier. "I mean, sorry you had to see that. But you know how it is when you get those… manly urges and you just gotta kill somethin', fix things, cook outdoors…" Ping trails off awkwardly as Shang interrupts him.

"What's your name?"

"Uh." Ping's voice once again falls back into a feminine tone as he is distracted by Shang's broad chest. He corrects himself swiftly. "It's Ping!"

"Ping?" Shang raises an eyebrow at the odd name, but shrugs it off. "Let me see your conscription notice." Ping hands the scroll over very quickly and takes a step back. Shang scans the words.

"Fa Zhou? The Fa Zhou?" Shang takes a moment to look at the son of the famed war hero in amazement. "I didn't know Fa Zhou had a son? I thought he only had daughter."

Ping scrambles.

"Er, both, actually. He has a son and daughter. Mulan. Is the daughter…" Shang tilts his head in interest.

"Yes, I've heard of her grace." Ping blushes and hopes it comes off as humble rather than pleased. "She takes after her mother." Shang scans Ping, focusing on his awkward posture and soft-looking skin. He raises a brow, unimpressed. "We could only hope that you take after your father instead."

The men circling Ping muffle their chuckles at the insult targeting Ping's manhood.

Ping drags his eyes from Shang as he marches past him and speaks loudly to the surrounding men. "Okay, gentlemen, thanks to your new friend, Ping, you'll spend tonight picking up every single grain of rice. And tomorrow, the real work begins."

The men groan as Shang walks off, growling quietly at Ping.

Ping cringes at his newfound enemies and lets out a small sigh, his eyes drifting off to stare at Shang's retreating back.


End file.
